


bud light bottle

by subtlewanda



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Creampie, Denial of Feelings, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feelings Feelings Feelings babey, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Making Out, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Slightly - Freeform, Smut, Swearing, Top Bucky Barnes, bottom reader, but reader is the safe friend, cos that's a warning in itself, except if you're clicking on the fic then i don't think you're gonna care that much, i feel gross typing that word but it happens sorry bout it, kinda mild but it's there, mentions of past spanking/choking but none happens here, mostly tho, she is sober i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlewanda/pseuds/subtlewanda
Summary: you’re over guys and relationships, even if the stranger hitting on you at the bar is stupidly attractive and actually makes you laugh. luckily, he has a solution.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> posted this to tumblr a bit ago and just uploading it all here. you can follow me there at subtlebucky if you'd like to check out the other stuff i've posted that isn't also here.

_Fuck_ , you think to yourself. _Where did they go now?_

You sit on a stool at the bar, elbows bent behind you, pushing yourself up in an attempt to spot Nat’s newly-bleached hair or the red leather of Wanda’s jacket. You plop back down to no avail, turning on your stool as you wait for the bartender to reach you. Curse your idiocy for forgetting it was your turn to be the responsible one. You’d consumed two shots before Wanda informed you of said responsibility, and, in your worried haze, you’d drank three full bottles of water right before you headed out. Convincing drunk girls to go pee with the designated sober friend the minute you show up to the bar is not easy, especially when one of them is flirty after two shots of hard liquor and another is going through a breakup. You won’t admit it out loud, of course, but you’re happy for Nat. Barton was weird, anyways. Too intense. Too similar to her.

The bartender snaps his fingers in front of you. “Hello. Earth to lady sitting at my bar.”

You blink, focusing on the guy in front of you. “Sorry. Uh, you got any limes or oranges right now?”

He smiles, and you notice a gap between his teeth. It’s cute. “You’re alright.” He peeks behind the bar, grimaces. “I got both, but only limes are cut up and I would love it if you’d refrain from making me cut up another orange right now.”

You grin. “Corona with two limes on the side then, thanks.”

He shakes his hands together in a silent thank you, and sticks his hand out once he places your beer and limes down. “I’m Sam.”

You shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Sam. [Y/N].”

“Gotta say, your friend over there is real cute, [Y/N].” Your eyes follow to where he nods, landing on where Wanda is chatting up three men. She glances your way, smirks a little when she notices Sam’s gaze. She turns back to the group she’d formed, faking any real interest.

“Well, Sam,” you smile as you face your own conversationalist, “looks like my friend finds you real cute, too.”

Sam laughs and goes to help a new addition sat at the other end of the bar. You take a gulp of your beer, then squeeze one lime fully into the drink. You jam the fatter slice into the top of the bottle and take a smaller sip, letting out an _ah_ at it’s more citrus taste.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen somebody actually squeeze the lime in it before.” Your attention goes to your right, noticing dark hair and a strong jaw sat two seats down. Your eyes work over his legs facing you, thick thighs threatening to pop out of black denim, a dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. When you settle on his face, you’re pleased to find him with a raised brow, as if surprised by how openly you check him out. The subtle upturn of his lips at the left corner of his mouth tells you he’s pleased, too.

 _Okay_ , you think. _Let’s play this out._

You shrug. “I like fruity drinks, but I’m the safe friend tonight. One beer, and I’m cutting myself off.”

The man tsks. “Damn.” You point a brow at him. He grins, a little coy. “I was gonna grab your next one in exchange for your name.”

You snort, and it makes his grin go wider. “You’re gonna have to work a little harder than that, bud.”

“Oh,” He looks you up and down, still smiling, “I’m planning on it.”

You laugh harder, then, shock punching it out of you, as Sam approaches. “You laying it on heavy with my new friend over here, Barnes?”

 _Barnes_ uses Sam addressing him to move to the seat next to yours. He gestures between himself and the man behind the counter. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

Sam pretends to mull it over, placing a bottle in front of the other man. “Not _nothing_ , necessarily, but very little.” He flashes you a smile as you giggle, but then relents at the way Barnes crosses his arms. “Bucky, meet [Y/N]. [Y/N], meet Bucky.”

You gasp. “I gave you my name in confidence, Sam!” You lean forward slightly to smack his arm, but you notice where Bucky’s stare has landed. It makes you laugh, again, and you think fleetingly that you can’t remember the last time a man who looks like _that_ has made you grin like _this_. “My eyes are up here, Buckaroo.”

Sam laughs so hard he wheezes at the name you use, and Bucky’s glaring at you. “Did you two plan this?”

You tilt your head, hint of a smile on your face, but confusion obvious. Sam speaks up. “I call him shitty nicknames all the time, and he hates it. Buckaroo is one of ‘em.”

You look to Bucky pointedly. “With a name like Bucky, what the hell else do you expect?”

Bucky’s glare sends Sam into another fit of laughter. “God, [Y/N], I hope this one somehow convinces you to stick around.” Sam says it over his shoulder as he moves to help another customer, and you hate yourself for it, but what he says makes you tense, just a little. You try to recover quickly, but Bucky notices.

It’s his turn to give you a pointed look. “Somebody’s scared of commitment.”

You take one, then two sips of your beer before you respond. “Might sound like a bit of an asshole, but,” you suck on your teeth, “as cute as you are, I’m not really looking for anything right now.”

Bucky looks like he’s considering his next move, you can tell. You’ve known him for all of five minutes, and he’s immediately easy to read. You decide you like that, even if you’re never seeing him again. It makes you feel comfortable.

When he finally goes to speak, Wanda’s wrapping an arm around your neck and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Are the guys I just left still watching me?”

You roll your eyes with an exaggerated sigh. Wanda just smiles at you, knowing you’ll look for her like always.

When you take a quick peek, the group immediately looks away from your direction. You groan. “I swear, one day I really am gonna tell you they’re not just to get you to look back at them.”

Wanda grins, snagging a swig of your drink. “Doubtful.” She’s still facing away from the bar. She doesn’t speak up again until she sees Sam out of the corner of her eye, her grin smaller, more mischievous. “Besides, I’m trying to go home with somebody else tonight.”

_What the hell do you have planned, Wand?_

“You gonna introduce me to your beautiful friend so I can get her a drink, [Y/N]?”

You’re about to joke with Sam, poke fun at him for telling Bucky your name, but the way Wanda looks at you is screaming: _Hurry the fuck up, please, I’ve been wanting his attention all night._

You forget how bossy Wanda can get when she’s tipsy. “Wanda, this is Sam.” Even sober, though, you’re _just_ a little bit bossier. “Sam, only drink you’re gonna get Wanda is a water, and a basket of pretzels.” Sam looks at you expectantly, and you roll your eyes. “ _Please_.”

You expect to see Wanda pouting when you turn to her, about to complain to you about cutting her off. Instead, she’s staring at the dance floor.

“Who’s the guy you’re taking home tonight, then?” Wanda rolls her eyes, jutting her hand out to ignore your question, and you’re surprised at what she points to.

You wouldn’t expect Nat’s possible rebound to be a blond-haired, blue-eyed, boyish-looking man. Though, you’d probably attribute her interest to his broad shoulders and the curve of his hips. She’s dancing into him for all she’s worth, and you can see the deep rose on his cheeks from all the way across the bar.

When you make eye contact, Natasha just grins unabashedly at you. You look back at Wanda. “You think that’s a good idea?” 

Wanda frowns. “Look at him, he’s harmless. Nat can protect herself. She’s not gonna let him do anything tonight.”

You give her a pointed look, smacking her hand away from the neck of your bottle. “Yeah, we both know I’m not talking about Nat.” You look back to your friend dancing, gnaw on your lip, then sigh. “That poor boy has one hell of a night ahead of him.”

“And you don’t?” Wanda smirks as she darts her eyes to behind you. You’re so surprised that Bucky’s still sitting there when you turn, even more surprised when he catches your gaze with a glint in his own that Wanda easily snatches the rest of your beer.

He goes back to yelling at Sam for something while Sam’s filling up a basket with pretzels, and you turn to Wanda, pinching the skin on her elbow hard between your fingers.

“ _Ow_!” Wanda frowns, rubbing the spot. “What the hell was that for?”

“For distracting me and then stealing the rest of my beer when I already cut you off.” _And for reminding me that I still have to cut the hottest guy that’s ever hit on me loose._ You keep that thought to yourself.

Wanda goes to reply, but when you raise an eyebrow, almost daring her to say whatever else she had planned, she snaps her mouth shut.

Sam interrupts your face-off. “Water and pretzels for the pretty lady.”

It’s as if Wanda’s conveniently forgotten your anger entirely, and she’s immediately giving Sam a flirty smile.

She says something, but you decide to tune out of whatever game they have going on before it starts and return your attention back to Bucky.

You go to speak, but stop yourself. You’re not entirely sure what to say. Bucky sees your head tilt, the way your brows are pushed together, so he lets you think.

“So— you’re still here,” you decide on after a moment passes. It’s not a question, exactly, but a statement searching for an answer.

Bucky shrugs. “You interest me.” You roll your eyes to hide that his statement makes you flustered, and _oh, does it._ You take a pretzel from the basket Sam placed between you and Wanda to ignore the thoughts of his hands wrapped around things that aren’t that bottle. As you chew, Bucky speaks up again. “You don’t have to tell me, since we just barely met ten minutes ago, but…” He pauses for a second, like he’s deciding if he actually wants to ask. Against your better judgment— or maybe with its approval, you’re not entirely sure— you nod at him, encourage him to continue. He looks at you for a moment, mulling over whether he really should or not, but eventually speaks. “Why _aren’t_ you looking for anything right now?”

You saw the question coming a mile away, and yet you’re still at a loss for words again. Your actual reasoning for taking a break from relationships is because of your last one ending four months ago. You had totally lost yourself in it, became a person you didn’t want to be; you’re still trying to figure out who you are _now_. Therapy helps, and so does journaling, but jumping into something again is definitely taking three steps backward and two more in the wrong direction (though, you desperately wish he was the _right_ one).

You decide you’ll give him a clipped version; almost the truth, but with the rationale that Bucky’s still a stranger, no matter how comfortable you feel with him already. You let out a breath. “I guess I’m trying to learn to like myself. I haven’t ever really done that in my relationships.”

“So…” He turns to face you fully again, legs spread comfortably, and, _Jesus_ , he’s so _large_ and _so close_ he might as well have been slotting a leg between your thighs. “Not looking for anything at all, or just anything that’s a relationship?” You go to ask what he means, but he answers before you need to. “‘Cos, sweetheart,” and his grin is still playful, still comfortable, but there’s an edge that wasn’t there before. “I can keep this casual if you can.”

You hold eye contact with him for one, two, three seconds, look at his lips for another five, and you’ve made up your mind. “I’ll be right back. We’re going to your place.”

You jump off your seat and can’t help but smile as you hear Bucky laugh loudly over the sound of the increasingly loud music. It makes you wanna say screw relocating and tell him to meet you in the bathroom in five minutes instead. _Get it together._

You find Nat in virtually the same place you left her, a little bit further away from the music, sat at a booth with the same broad-shouldered blond from earlier.

“[Y/N], baby, hi!” Nat grabs your arm to pull you down to her side of the booth. You’re half surprised she isn’t sat with him. “Steve, this is one of my best friends, [Y/N]. She’s the one with the commitment issues.”

 _Right._ Nat likes to spill everybody’s life stories when she gets some liquid courage in her. “Sorry, she overshares when she’s drunk.” You cringe.

He just smiles with his teeth. “I’m Steve.” He goes to take a drink of his beer. “Natasha’s told me a little bit about you. You’ve been up there talking to Buck, right? We’re roommates.” When he nods his head in the direction of the bar, you look to see Bucky quickly averting his gaze. “You two seem to be getting along over there.”

When you turn back to Steve, you see him smirking around another sip. You narrow your eyes, checking him out in a different way entirely from the way you had earlier with Bucky— like you’re scanning him, inputting data, and you appreciate the way Steve starts to squirm under your gaze.

“I’m gonna make this quick, Steve.” He noticeably gulps. “First of all, I’d like to make one thing clear: you and my friend will not be fucking tonight.” Steve’s eyes go as wide as saucers, and you appreciate the way he tries to stutter out a _no, no of course not, I would never,_ before you speak again. “However, she does seem to like you and I’m pretty sure she’s planning on taking you back to our apartment. And, well, I’ve got my own plans, so I’ll be busy in the morning. Errands to run, you know. So Nat’s gonna have the place all to herself.” You turn to Natasha when you mention her name. “If I’m gone until eleven, is that enough time?”

She pouts at you in lieu of a response, and you sigh. “Fine. I’ll keep myself busy until one in the afternoon. Go grocery shopping twice or something.” You roll your eyes when she hugs you tightly, pulling back, you finally look at Steve again.

When you do, words tumble out of him. “I swear the most we did tonight was dance together, and all I planned on was helping her get home safe. She’s been nice to talk to, and I was maybe gonna give her my number, if I thought I could work up to it, maybe, but no funny business. I _swear_.”

The pleading look in his eyes is endearing enough for you to relax a little, and you tell Steve to do the same. “She likes you. Our couch pulls out, and it’s not half bad to sleep on. Nothing has to happen the morning after, but I’m sure she’d at least like to see you again. Hmm?” You nudge at Nat, and she grins wide in response at Steve.

Steve holds eye contact with you both for a moment, as if the two of you were playing a trick on him, but eventually, he does relax. You stand, then, kiss Nat on the cheek and tell her to be safe. You turn to Steve. “Besides,” you put a hand on his shoulder. “If Bucky’s your roommate, I’d really like for you to be gone tonight.”

The next few minutes blur together, a most likely empty promise to Sam about returning to his bar, telling Wanda to make Nat drink at least three glasses of water before she leaves. A goodbye hug to her, pleased with the fact that she seems already almost sober, alcoholic flush gone from her cheeks.

“You ready, sweetheart?” Bucky’s handing you the coat from the back of your chair, and you feel pricking starting to pick at your nerves, but Bucky’s touch at the bottom of your back seems to set you at ease. Even more so when he whispers in your ear as he leads you to the door, “This okay?” As if a hot stranger who had sweet-talked you all night touching you could ever _not_ be okay.

As you leave, you take one more glance back and see Wanda touching Sam’s arm over the bar with a familiarity you almost don’t notice. You wonder if there’s any truth behind Wanda picking this bar ‘at random.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you and bucky have been friends with benefits for seven months now. one night, though, things seem to change. you’re not sure you’re as off-put as you should be.

“Holy shit, Bucky, I’m—” you have one hand threaded into Bucky’s hair and the other is gripping the arm he has wrapped around your upper thigh, splayed over your stomach. “Please— _fuck_ , please don’t stop, I’m gonna cum.”

You grind into his face harder, and you would feel bad, really, you would. But then he’s pumping his three fingers in and out of you _just_ so, sucking intently on your clit, pushing his face further into you at your words.

Bucky’s fingers curl at that spot at the same time he sucks hard, and your mouth falls open in silence as your orgasm falls through you. He keeps it up with his mouth and fingers, helps you ride out your orgasm until you’re whimpering and tugging him away from you by his hair.

He climbs up to lay beside you, panting slightly less than you are. After a moment, he speaks. “So, was it good for you, or…?”

You hear the smugness in his tone before you see it, and you smack him across the chest with the back of your hand as you turn on your side. He’s laughing as you speak over him. “It was barely clever the first time, Bucky, I am begging you to stop with that terrible line.”

You yelp as he drags you in close, kissing over your jaw and down your neck. “Yeah, well, that wasn’t what you were begging for before…” You hit him again, because _still bad_ , but it’s weaker than the first. He chuckles in response.

As fast as he was there, though, he’s gone, moving to get out of bed. “Eat your granola bar. I wanna grab something from the kitchen, and I should probably call Steve back from…” He pauses as he checks his phone, wincing a little. “Two hours ago.”

You pout at him, and he almost doesn’t get up. He’s at the doorway, though, once you say something. “Hate to see you go, Barnes, but love to watch you leave.” He turns to look at you, and you’re grinning. He wants to kiss it off of you. He knows better.

_You wanna talk about lines, huh?_ Bucky thinks to himself as he makes his way to the kitchen. He’s dialing Steve’s number and putting the speaker on low while he looks through his kitchen.

Steve picks up on the second ring. “You and your girlfriend gonna come hang out with us, or are you guys just gonna leave us on our own double-date, as usual?”

Bucky’s rolling his eyes immediately. “One, [Y/N] is not my girlfriend. Two,” he reaches for a half-full Gatorade at the back of his fridge, “not my fault you guys are boring as hell and don’t know how to have fun without us.”

“Right, uh huh, good deflection there, Buckaroo.” Sam chimes in. “So you _are_ with her, then?”

Bucky groans as he tosses the empty bottle in the recycling bin. _Shit_. “I never said that.” There’s silence for a moment, but he decides he better give in now if he wants to cut this conversation short. “But… yes, she’s at the apartment.”

“Bucky, you can’t keep pretending that you don’t feel any—” Sam’s reason is cut off.

“Tell her to come out!” Steve’s tone is getting antsy, borderline childlike. “It’s not even late.”

Bucky checks the time while he peels a banana. _9:37 PM_ flashes at him before he locks his screen. “She has a presentation tomorrow, dude.” He takes a large bite, talking through his chew. “Dunno wha’ you wan’ me ta’ do.”

“We want you to stop being such a dumbass.” Sam deadpans.

Steve thinks differently. “We just think if you’re gonna ditch us for [Y/N] constantly, at least make it official. It hurts our feelings. Don’t you care about those?”

Before Bucky can respond, Sam interrupts him. “Wait, are— are you eating something to— to reenergize?” Steve is gagging over Sam’s laughter.

Bucky swallows, shrugging to himself. “Do you want the actual answer to that question?” He takes a smaller bite out of the fruit.

There’s shuffling, sounds as if Steve is struggling to get the phone, but then he’s speaking. “If you are naked in our kitchen… You— You are so lucky I’m staying at Nat’s tonight. This isn’t gonna be the weekend I was in D.C. all over again, is it?” He sounds like a little brother who caught his older sibling kissing, all grossed out, and Bucky has to hold back a laugh. “You better Febreze the shit out of the apartment before I come home tomorrow. If it smells like sex, Buck, I swear to God—”

“Mhm, gotcha, Steve. Gotta go finish this banana so I can get back to fucking [Y/N], who is not my girlfriend, but a wonderful friend with an even better head game. Later.” He waits to hear the groans from both of them and hangs up, biting off another piece of banana.

Bucky isn’t pretending he doesn’t have feelings for you. He doesn’t lie to himself. He knows.

When Bucky returns from the kitchen, he sees you drinking a bottle of water with the granola bar he’d grabbed for you sitting half-eaten on his nightstand. You’re up against the headboard, and he slides in next to you.

You grin at him. “Hey, sailor.”

He laughs, despite himself. It’s another line you always use on him, when you’re done with your break and ready to go another round, and it never fails to make him smile at you. You really, _really_ like that smile.

The two of you seem to notice at the same time that you’re just staring at each other. Instead of looking away like you do, you note his smile gets a little softer, more private. You feel like you’re looking in on a moment you shouldn’t be, so you let the thin sheet fall away from your chest and sit up fully. “Wanna take me up on my offer, now, Buck?”

Bucky’s reminded of how painfully hard he is, then, and he’s nodding, repositioning on the bed eagerly enough that a laugh falls past your lips before you can stop it. He pouts as he kneels in front of you, but only for a moment. You feel bold enough to kiss it off of him, quick, so fast he thinks he might’ve imagined it. Bucky goes to ask you to kiss him again— because he really thinks you two don’t do that enough, doesn’t care if it crosses the boundaries you two set seven months ago when your lips taste so much like granola and chocolate and _you_ — but then you’re dragging those lips down his neck, taking your time at his sweet spot.

He’s a puddle. He’s liquified, somehow staying in the shape of the body you know so well, and he feels like he both starts and ends where you leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his chest.

Your warm breath finally spreads over his cock after what seems to be seconds or hours, Bucky’s not fully sure. You spit into the palm of your hand, and before he can even fully react to that, you’re licking at his tip and wrapping that hand around his shaft. He chokes on nothing, a strangled sound comes out, and you smile.

You love this. You love the sounds he makes when he gets like this, when he can’t hold back so he just fucks up into your throat, can’t help himself, and you feel _hot_ , wanted, needed.

It’s wrong, maybe, not playing fair, but you can’t help it— not when he looks at you like _that_ once you finally wrap your lips fully around the tip and _suck_. You know you’re playing dirty as you decide your next move, taking as much of him in as possible and swallowing around him. He bucks his hips involuntarily, and you moan simultaneously, which only makes him repeat his actions. This time, you whimper, uncaring about how pathetic it sounds. The way he’s looking at you, the way he wipes at the drool dripping down your chin, cradles the back of your head and holds eye contact as he thrusts lowly into your mouth… with enough stimulation, you might have your third orgasm of the night sucking him off.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Want you to touch yourself for me.” And, well, if you’ve got a dirty mind on you, Bucky’s is dirtier.

You readjust slightly, finding a comfortable position to touch your still-overstimulated, now-throbbing clit. Once Bucky sees that you do, he starts to fuck your mouth deep, fully, and his thrusts increase in speed quickly. It spurs you on, being used like this, used by _him_ like this.

A particular thrust into the back of your throat causes you to choke as you perfect the pressure on your nerves, and the moan he lets out above you (while still keeping eye contact, _jesus christ_ ) makes you clench around nothing, eyes closing shut. You hear him hum, feel him rub his knuckles over your cheek gently, and you open your eyes once more, slow.

“Keep those eyes open for me, yeah?” Bucky’s voice is as sweet as his hand, and the contrast between it and his hips fucking your throat as if you’re nothing is so delicious it sends you reeling. You speed up your two fingers. _You’re so close._

Bucky’s cock leaves your mouth entirely, and you want to keep touching yourself, but you stop. You know better.

He slides back to where he sat before, up against the headboard, and your head is spinning before he even fully acknowledges you again. “You wanna be a good girl and come ride me?”

You’re the one eager and scrambling now, but he doesn’t laugh, only lets his gaze linger over you. _God_ , sometimes his looks are intense. It spreads over you like melted butter, sizzles hot underneath your skin. _No one else has ever made you feel the way he does_.

You settle over him, thighs spread on either side of his own. Your voice is hoarse when you speak. “This okay?” You feel stupid for asking— he’s the one who asked for this in the first place— but then he’s smiling and the butter is _burning_ now.

“‘Course it is, sweetheart.” He doesn’t ask if you’re okay, because he knows you don’t need it. There have been a small handful of times that you’d needed to bow out, and you always make yourself clear on your own. You don’t need Bucky to coax it out of you.

You get him in your grip, give him a few lazy pumps that Bucky tilts his head back just slightly at, and it’s your turn to smile. You line him up at your entrance, and he’s barely in past the tip when you’re both moaning.

“Fuck, that’s— that’s it, honey, doing so good. _Shit_ , just like that.” His words cause you to sink down further, more quickly than you’re used to, and you need a minute to catch your breath once you fully slide down onto him. The angle is familiar, but it always feels new. Still so good, though, still Bucky.

After a moment, maybe two or three, you roll your hips, testing the waters, and your mouth drops open as he lets out a punched-out groan.

“Buck, I can’t— I need—” You gasp as he twists his own hips, somehow already picking up on exactly what you’re asking, “Need you to move, Bucky.”

“What, can’t fuck yourself on my dick, huh? Need me to do everything for you?” His words shouldn’t fuel the fire, but they do, and he chuckles as you clench around him. You go to say something in rebuttal, try to take back some semblance of control over the situation because _you’re on top, damnit_ , but then he’s thrusting up into you and your fucked-out throat lets a needy whimper slip out.

Bucky gives it to you good, he always does, but it’s different, and it’s _incredible_. He doesn’t make you look at him anymore, but you feel his eyes watching you, and it only makes you more turned on. You desperately try to keep up with his brutal pacing.

“Feels so good, baby, I know. Like this pussy of yours was made to come on my cock, hm?” It’s getting into dangerous territory, sure, the idea of being made for each other, but the whine from the back of your throat doesn’t seem to notice. Neither does your nod as you throw your head back.

Bucky latches onto your throat, then, leaves a bruise in an obvious place for the first time ever, and you clench around him as he does it. “Shit, _shit_. Bucky, _god_.”

You don’t do this. The two of you _don’t do this_. It isn’t overwhelmingly _wonderful_ when you fuck like this, isn’t sweet, would-be-soft if he wasn’t fucking you so good. He doesn’t leave hickey’s that can be easily seen, you don’t keep eye contact while he fucks your throat so hard you think you might cum from it. You don’t even leave anything except an overnight bag at his place, and even then you’re usually taking it with you the next day. If all of this isn’t bordering the line between benefits and _more_ , then the line’s already been crossed, and you hate that you’re not too bothered by the thought.

“C’mon, doll, want you to come for me. Want everybody in my building to know who makes you feel this good. Who’s pussy is this, baby?”

_Holy shit, definitely dangerous_ , but you lose control of your body and words. You come as you say _yours, you are, make me feel so good, Buck, shit._

Your mindless words and the way you’re gripping him make him thrust faster, go harder on your clit, relentless, as he plays with a nipple and leaves mark after mark on the other’s breast. Your bliss feels like it doesn’t stop, like it _can’t_ stop— you aren’t sure if the stimulation is a new orgasm or simply continued as you cream all over him.

His hips stutter as he fucks into you, and then he stops fully inside you. He groans into your skin, biting a bit too harshly as he comes. He stays inside you as he softens, and you flutter around him, ignore the discomfort until you’ve both caught your breath.

He grips your hips as you shift to move off of him, tuts disapprovingly. You look down at him as you pant lightly, vision still a little hazy, mind the same way. “Buck, what—”

Your breath is quick, barely having caught it, as his lips go to your other breast, leaves two marks there. He makes eye contact before you let your eyes close, slowly, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on your skin, pushing through the sensitivity. You bring your left hand to his hair, hold the back of his head close to your breast. He lets go with a pop, places a gentle kiss to your nipples, licking the one he didn’t touch. You feel him smile while you squirm but don’t move to get away from him.

You sit for a moment once he’s finished, Bucky hugging you to his chest, your hands stroking up his sides and thighs lazily with your head lying on his shoulder. Your mind is hazy still, but it’s getting less foggy, now. The more you’re able to think, the more your thoughts are jumbled, but they can easily be summed up into _what the fuck was that?_

You clear your throat once, twice, then speak. “Look, if you really want me to stay like this, I’ll stay, but I’m gonna be honest— I’d love to go pee so I don’t get a UTI.”

He laughs, of course he does, because just when he thinks he might’ve actually fucked the wit out of you, the _you_ out of you, there you are.

He winces as he pulls out, and you whine again, despite being the requester. He chuckles. “Gotta give me some time to recover here, honey.” You groan, moving from the bed as you stand to stretch, walking to the hallway. Bucky shamelessly lets his eyes roam, indulges himself in your nakedness.

“I don’t care how my body responds, no more fucking tonight, Barnes. You know I have my presentation tomorrow, and if we go another round, there’s no way I’m leaving your place tonight.” You finally turn to look at him in the doorway, and you roll your eyes at the look on his face. He sports eyes half-lidded and cheeks fully flushed. He notices the smallest hint of a smile fighting to peek through, but you chew on your lips to push it down.

You cross your arms, drawing his attention to your breasts, and your smile cracks then. “Fine. If you get it up by the time I come back, then maybe I’ll blow you before I leave.” He smiles as he hears you pad slowly down the hallway, as if trying to give him a few more minutes, help him out. Like you want it, too.

He tries to think of the moments prior, think of the ways you clenched around him when he’d hit that spot, or when he’d perfect the pressure and circles on your clit. But his mind drifts. He’s grinning, now, as he’s focused on the words you’d said as you were draped over him: _if he wants you to stay, you’ll stay._

You try to look in the mirror to tell yourself to get it together. You know yourself. The floating feeling you have despite the cold water you splash on your face is less from being fucked and more from being fucked by _Bucky_ , going another round _because_ it’s Bucky, and that’s a little too close to attachment for you. As your brain starts to clear, and she starts telling you how already attached you are, you leave. _You’ll talk to yourself later._

There’s a little frown in your brow when you see him half-dressed once you’ve left the bathroom, but you smile, so he knows he made the right call. He gives you his shirt and a pair of his sweats. Mostly because he just wants to see you in them, even if it’s as you leave.

You roll your eyes. “My clothes work just fine, you know,” but you’re putting on his shirt as you speak.

In the back of your mind, you know you won’t be able to sleep tonight, anyway, know your thoughts will be racing with what the _fuck_ all of this means. You’ve worn his clothes before, nights when Bucky fucks you so good and sore that you can’t help but accept the soft clothing compared to whatever you’d worn over there. But you don’t _wear his clothes_. You don’t get hickeys you need to cover, and he doesn’t skip out on another round when you offer it up on a silver platter ( _What work did he need to put in to get a blow job? Get hard? And sometimes that’s your job, too_ ).

You can’t find it in you to care as much as you should when Bucky kisses you goodbye in his doorway so sweetly, so gently. You don’t think you’ve ever kissed him this much. You’ve never kissed goodbye, kissed like _this_ , with his tongue massaging yours, slow, just enough pressure to have you sighing into him.

He pulls back, hand still holding your face, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. Your mind is telling you to _leave_ , to stop looking at him so openly, but you ignore it when you see a look on his face that you think just might reflect your own. He kisses you once more, just pressing his lips to yours, and then he steps out of your space, lets you go.

You blink once, twice, and it’s his small chuckle that brings you out enough to shove at his shoulder. “Text me next time you think you can get it up, Buckaroo.”

You’ve been using that nickname since the night at the bar. He grins at you, so wide it’s blinding, distracting, almost. He puts his hands up. “Alright, alright. I’ll call you tomorrow, [Y/N], no need to beg.”

You laugh with him, that same feeling of pleasant surprise from that night humming under your skin. You stand there, staring at each other for a minute, unsure of how to end this. You’ve done this so many times— it should be easy, but this feels different, feels _new_.

You’re about to wave awkwardly and turn to leave when he pulls you in once more, kisses you again, and even this one is different. He’s greedy, but not urgent, as if he could kiss you forever, wants to, but knows he can’t, so he’s soaking it up, taking in as much of _you_ as he can. It’s overwhelming and _so good_ all at once.

He starts to slow, kissing with less pressure as if to let you know he’s pulling away soon. By the time he’s finished, he’s pressing a peck to your lips, then two to your cheeks and one to your left brow before you’re laughing and waving him off.

When you finally speak, it’s a little more smug than you should be for someone who’s been kissed so thoroughly. “We should do that kissing thing more often. You seem to be a fan.”

His face is blank for a moment, and you’re worried you’ve ruined it, whatever _it_ is, until he looks down with a snort. He looks back to you, and this seems more like the Bucky you know, that you’ve grown fond of. His hands are in his pockets, and he’s looking down at you through his lashes. He has his usual sated smile on his face right before you go, but there’s something different to it. Not sad, not hopeful— almost thankful, yet disappointed all the same. You frown internally.

You don’t get to reflect on it much longer, the smile morphing to tease you. “Yeah, you’re definitely only suggesting that for my sake.” You hear the sarcasm in his tone, and smile.

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

His smile seems permanent, and before you can convince yourself out of it, you reach up to kiss him on the cheek. You lean back, expecting to see him watching your lips, but his eyes are trained on yours.

You chew on your lip again, feeling the intensity of the moment. Bucky looks like he wants to speak, say something important, and it terrifies you. _Not right now. It’s too much. Please, not right now._

You interrupt him as he opens his mouth. “See ya, Buck,” and you finally turn to leave, everything about him becoming the overwhelming you truly can’t handle, even if you wanted to stay. _God_ , you wanted to.

As you walk down the hallway to press the elevator button, you begrudgingly note that you do enjoy all of the ways he kisses you. Just a little.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the last time you saw bucky was many things. too many things. you think taking it into your own hands will rectify these things, but, really, what good has that ever done?

You haven’t been avoiding him.

The next day, your presentation went really well; you’d felt great about it, and the only person you’d wanted to tell was Bucky.

That had been new. You’re not exactly pleased at the development. Sure, usually you end up telling him at some point, and maybe sometimes you do text him things out of the blue when you want to share something exciting, but it’s never about him. About his reaction, his praise. His reply of _I’m so proud of you_ , or _of course you nailed it_ , most likely followed by _wanna come over and celebrate?_

He texted you that night, actually.

**Bucky: Thinking about our past few sessions… I can definitely get it up again. Come over to celebrate that presentation you definitely killed?**

You won’t admit to it, but your smile was splitting your face when you got that text. He’s predictable in the best of ways. So, logically, you’d decided to ignore his message until _that feeling_ went away.

Then, he’d sent you the photo of his dick in your mouth you’d asked him to take once. (You’d been curious as to what it looked like from his perspective— are you hot enough, do you need to work on the angle for him?)

**Bucky: Miss this. [Image Attached]**

You know you should maybe be pissed for him sending it so randomly, but really, you’d masturbated to the photo and message later on. ‘Miss this’ had made you come _twice_.

And then, three more messages over the course of the last three months.

**Bucky: Sorry for my last two douchey texts. Hope you’re good. Hang soon? No sex needed.**

****

****

Bucky: Hey. I’ll leave you alone. Just tell Nat or Wanda if you want any of your stuff that’s here still. I can give it to Steve or Sam. I’ll put it in your go-bag.

**Bucky: I don’t know what I did, but I hope one day we can be friends again. With whatever benefits you want. You mean a lot to me, [Y/N]. Time won’t change that. Reach out whenever.**

You hate how sweet he was— it only made this worse.

To put it simply, you need space. Your last encounter has left you… feeling. Feeling _too much_. And you knew he’d felt it, too. Bucky was about to tell you exactly what he felt, and you’d cut him off. For good reason.

That’s what you’d told your therapist, at least.

So, you haven’t been avoiding him, per say, and not totally on purpose. That’s what you tell Natasha on speaker phone while you dry off from your shower, anyway. “I mean it, Nat. It’s been a busy few weeks. I’ve been looking for a different job, and I’m still settling into the new apartment, and—”

“It’s been _four months_ , [Y/N].” You hear her typical deadpan tone, and you wish you could be more mad at her for being annoyed with you. She’s the one who inserts herself in the first place— _you_ don’t call _her_ six times while she’s in the middle of a shower until she picks up. She brings this upon herself.

You tell her as much. “I don’t even ask you for advice on this, anyway! I know what I’m doing.” You finish drying off, pausing. “Besides, it hasn’t been four months. It’s been three and a half.”

A snort rings out over the line as you move to your closet, searching for comfort in clothing. “I thought it was only a ‘busy few weeks,’ hmm?”

You roll your eyes, predicting the trap you’d fallen into the moment you’d said the words. “Whatever. Bucky and I have gone a month or two without seeing each other, it’s not that big of a deal.”

You grab a random pair of sweats while Natasha continues to argue. “A month and a half of FaceTime calls because you were traveling during the summer is _not_ the same as dropping off the face of the earth for almost four months.”

You bite your lip. She has a point. “Yeah… yeah, I know.”

“I just don’t understand you, [Y/N]. I want to, but I don’t.” You throw on a random t-shirt from Goodwill, trying to ignore how hard her words are hitting. “Why are you shutting him out the minute things between you two are actually going somewhere? Get me to understand it.”

Before you realize it, your tone comes out harsher than you mean to. Defensive. “Because I never wanted it to go anywhere, Natasha. You know that. I’m allowed to be single and I can be happy that way.”

You hear Nat sigh, and you sit down on your bed as she speaks, softer than before. “You can be happy that way. I’m not saying you can’t, I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I meant…” You hear her take a deep breath in, and you find yourself breathing out with her. “I only meant that you… You’re happy with _him_ , honey. You… You are happy with him. I’m sorry you don’t wanna face that right now.” There’s a pause, like she debates saying something. She does. “You said never wanted. You _previously_ didn’t want that. I think you do, now.”

You want to say something. You want to deny it, want to at least make the claim that you’re happier on your own, but… you’re happy on your own _and_ you’re happy with him. It’s almost the same, but it’s different, and it’s _good_. You can’t deny that anymore.

Nat clears her throat. “Alright, I gotta go… Steve’s here, he’s staying the night. If you get lonely, feel free to come hang, yeah? Bucky’s not the only idiot that misses you, it seems. My guy’s not too happy you’ve taken to avoiding him and not Sam.”

You silently thank Natasha for the slight change in topic to end on a lighter note. “Steve will immediately tell Bucky every detail about everything we talked about— the poor man can’t hold anything in to save his life. I have no idea how you deal with it.” You laugh a little. “Besides, Sam would kill me if I went more than a week without some sort of life update or communication.”

Nat laughs a little with you. “I always forget how in-sync you guys are. You guys must be platonic soulmates, or something.”

You shrug to yourself. “Maybe that’ll convince Wanda to let me take her boyfriend on game nights. Bucky sucks.”

You hear Nat’s smile in her voice— her tone is knowing, always is. “Right. Yeah.” Her voice changes, slightly annoyed. “Alright, Steve, you big baby, I’m going—”

There’s shuffling on the other end, and then a _very manly huff into the speaker. You can practically see Steve pouting in front of you._

__

__

“Hi, Steven.”

He huffs again, mumbling, “S’not my name.”

You can’t help but grin. You’ll admit it: you miss the hunk of a man. You especially miss everyone being together; the six of you had created a small, unintentionally wonderful group. “I heard you miss me. I wonder if it’s actually _me_ , or the Asian food that’s only near my new place.”

“It’s definitely you, obviously…” There’s a pause, but you can tell Steve’s not finished. “But I do miss that Szechuan chicken and rice.”

“You ended up loading it with duck sauce anyway!” You tease. “What a baby. You said it was so spicy.”

“It is! There— There’s a kick!” Steve protests.

You raise an eyebrow even though he can’t see you. “That must be heartburn. You eat your food too damn fast.”

Steve grumbles. “I don’t think I miss you very much anymore.”

“Okay! Nice talking, Steven. Miss you loads. See ya.”

“Shuddup.”

You smile to yourself. Next time you see the blond, you’re hugging him.

“Can I… I just wanna say one thing about this. Please.”

“Steve…” You groan, falling back onto your bed. _Right._ This is why you won’t speak with him in the first place. You hadn’t realized you were signing up for a second Natasha when you’d befriended him.

“I know. I know, I promise, just hear me out?”

You roll your eyes. “God. _Fine._ You’ve got thirty seconds.”

Steve starts speaking immediately. “Bucky’s in love with you, and he’s a little bitch for never saying anything, but I feel that as his oldest friend, which you know but Natasha can confirm via photos of us when we were kids, me telling you should be enough and you should really go get your happy ending because he’s too scared he’s gonna lose you,” he takes a deep breath in and continues, faster, “and he’s been a fucking wreck these past four months, as in gone through all the tissue boxes we own plus those weird little travel Kleenex packs you always think you can never run out of but trust me, you can, we have, and he’s a mess. Please go kiss and make up.”

Silence.

Okay.

Are you breathing? You think you are, because you haven’t passed out, but you are so consciously unaware of everything right now you’re not sure if it’s happening correctly.

_Fuck._ Okay.

“I gotta go, Steve.”

You don’t change, you don’t check your reflection, you almost forget your keys, but you _do_ grab a piece of gum, to be safe.

You spit out chewed peppermint in the lobby’s garbage and finally take a deep breath. You push the elevator up button, and, of course, that voice is right behind you.

“[Y/N]?” You turn around, and then the elevator dings. Bucky’s head is tilted, confused, but his smile is so sweet, _God_ , how do you usually keep it together?

_Oh, shit. Did he see you spit into the garbage can?_

He shuffles you into the elevator. “I, uh… Hi.” He grins, presses the button for his floor. “Can I hug you? Is that okay? If not, that’s—”

You surge forward, wrapping your arms around his torso. He’s warm. You feel his chuckle travel through your body and settle dizzily in your head. He’s rubbing his arms up and down yours, and you decide that living here forever would probably be fine for you.

You fall out of his embrace shyly, following him to his apartment. That’s when you notice his dress shoes. _Huh._ You’ve never seen those before.

You get inside, and then, in the comfort of the space you’ve been in so many times before, you notice it. His clothes are pressed, ironed, a black and white floral print dress shirt paired with straight black slacks.

You throat goes dry. “You were on a date.”

Bucky takes off his cuff links as he speaks, placing them in the key tray to grab later. “Yeah, I was. That’s what I was getting back from.”

He doesn’t even look at you. How is he so casual? How is he managing this? Your brain is _confused_. “Steve isn’t here, yknow.”

You look up at him as he mentions his roommate. “No, yeah… I know. I… I wanted to come see you. Reach out, like you’d said.”

He grins at you. “Hey, that’s… cool. Very cool. I’m glad.” He seems to also just now take in your appearance, too distracted by suddenly being around each other after months to actually notice basic things such as clothing. Bucky frowns. “You’re here in sweats… You okay?”

You laugh, and you hate how fake it sounds. “Yeah, I didn’t come from a date, so… I’m all good.”

Bucky raises a brow at you, and when you make eye contact with him, the two of you genuinely laugh, albeit quietly.

You correct yourself. “This was kind of… spur of the moment. Today’s laundry day and I still haven’t done any.”

Bucky grins. “And how many times have I heard that one?”

You roll your eyes, but your chest feels warm as you reply. “I forget to do it! It’s not my fault.”

He laughs, and your whole body heats, now. _Yeah. You missed this._ “But, yeah, uh. The date… went well, honestly. She was really sweet.”

And the warmth is gone as quick as it presented itself. “Oh… Yeah, Buck, that’s—”

“We kissed, too.” Bucky picks at the side table that holds the key tray and a few picture frames. You’re in one, with the whole group. Your head is titled into Bucky’s neck, laughing outrageously at some stupid joke he’d told. He’s staring down at you, grin splitting his face. When did you get to this? _Here?_

“She was so nice, the whole time.” Bucky laughs now, but it’s bitter. “And when I kissed her, all I wanted was for it to be you.” Your ears focus on the sound of his nails against the wood— anything to ignore the silence that follows. _What do you say to him? Do you kiss him now?_ He speaks up before you have a chance to do anything, tone joking. “So. Thanks for being such a good kisser. Kinda wish you would’ve sucked a little more.”

He peeks up at you through his lashes, and his smile is so soft you think you might melt into the floor. Instead, you smile back.

The moment passes, and he clears his throat, looking down. You notice an empty beer bottle sitting on one of the shelves underneath the table. “How come I’ve never noticed that before?”

Bucky looks to what you nod at, and his cheeks immediately flush. “Right. Uh, I didn’t realize you were… coming over.” He bends to pick it up and passes it to you. “I usually move it whenever you do. It’s… it’s my bottle from that first night we… hung out.” _More like fucked each other’s brains out, but okay._ “You remember? You made fun of me for drinking it, ‘said I had the worst taste while we watched _Halloweentown_.”

You tried to hold back your grin. “Yeah, and you fucked me again on the couch. I can’t watch that movie without getting horny now. I’m all fucked up because of you, Buckaroo.”

“What can I say, you’re hot when you degrade me for shit like that.” You laugh again, and your whole body feels full, satisfied, content, because it’s so familiar with him.

It’s so easy to feel good with him.

Bucky’s sigh interrupts your thoughts. “Look, I know I said you could reach out to me anytime, and you can, but showing up here like this… honestly, I’m gonna read into it.” He chuckles, and your heart clenched at how sad it sounds. “I already am reading into it.” You understand what he means— as if this is your big grand gesture to get him back, after months of no contact.

Isn’t it? Aren’t you?

“And you made it clear that’s not what you wanted.” You nod, because that’s what your answer always is to that question— of course you don’t want anything serious. You don’t need it, so you’d decided that’s not what you wanted. _And yet, isn’t it? Don’t you?_ “I just need a little more time. But… it was really good to see you.” He smiles, quick. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “And I’m glad you came over today. I appreciate you wanting to see how I am. You… You’re a good friend.”

“Right, yeah. You… I’m glad you’re doing well, Buck. Really.” You try to make eye contact with him, but you can’t. You take a deep breath, turning back for the door you’d closed shut.

“That’s why you came over, right? To check on me?”

You pause. _This is your last chance. Are you gonna be a dick and leave him thinking you never cared?_ You inwardly roll your eyes at your own brain mocking you.

Fuck it.

You turn back around, and you speak faster than Steve had. “Okay, so. If you’re okay with it, in a minute, I’m gonna come closer to you and kiss the _hell_ out of you, because, dude, I’ve missed you so much, I care about you _so much_.” Bucky steps closer to you, and you back yourself into the door. The hopeful look on his face gets you to keep going. “You… You’re more than a friend to me, Bucky, I think I’ve… I, I’ve really fallen in love with you, or I’m on my way to being there, at least.” He’s smiling softly at you, in your space now, but he doesn’t touch you. You can’t stop rambling. “I don’t know, my therapist says she thinks I am but I’m not really completely sure, because I don’t think I’ve ever even felt anything like this for somebody before, and that’s so scary to me, but I just—”

He puts his hand on your cheek, and your mouths are almost touching. Your breathing goes harsh, but he waits there, thumb rubbing your cheek, lips still. Waiting for you to make the first move.

So, you do.

The minute your lips meet, you let out an embarrassing sound from the back of you throat. You missed this. You missed him. _God_ , you’re an idiot.

You have control of the kiss for the first few minutes, and then he’s pushing back against you, kissing you open and shoving his tongue down your throat. _Yeah._ Okay. Definitely missed this.

Bucky reaches around, squeezing your ass, and you pull away to laugh. He’s _beaming_ at you. To be fair, you’re probably not in much better shape. You’re a mess of thrown clothes and soft laughter as you get on the bed, and then he’s kissing you again. It’s not rushed, not chaste. It’s steady, overwhelmingly _there_. Present. Your head spins.

As he enters you, the stretch is almost like the first time— and it’s so good. “Fuck, honey,” Bucky breathes into your neck when he’s halfway sheathed inside you. You push your fingers into his hair, tugging as he sucks a bruise into your skin with just the right amount of pressure.

You can tell he’s holding back, probably wants to let your body adjust because of how long it’s been, but you don’t care. You need all of him, now. “Buck, please… please, more.”

“I don’t want— Fuck, baby,” he hisses when you squeeze around his cock, “I… I’ll hurt you.”

“Jesus, Buck, you’ve made me count while you smacked my ass and you’ve choked me so hard I almost passed out. And it felt fucking ace. _Please_ , I’m begging you— _holy shit_.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp, Bucky fully fucking into you.

You always forget how _big_ he is, and you haven’t gone this long without him since you’d met. He’s still slow, still careful but he moves. The ache forms, sits in your gut, and Bucky pulls his face from your neck. “Breathe, honey. Need you to breathe for me.”

His breath fanning over your face is distracting for a moment, but then you listen. You breathe in through your nose, let it out through your mouth a handful of times.

The pain starts to twist, twist, twist into pleasure and soon you’re letting out whimpers. He won’t go any faster, even as you dig your heels into his ass. “Bucky,” you whine.

Bucky leans down, and you feel his smirk through the kiss. Asshole. “Love whenever you beg for it, baby. So pretty when you do.”

You want to be annoyed, but he knows you get off on the praise as you flutter around him. He groans, and you use your hand still tangled in his hair to pull him down to you. Your lips almost meet, but then he places your bottom lip between his teeth and pulls. You let out an involuntary moan, and then he stops, fully inside you. _Asshole._

“C’mon, sweetheart. I know how good you love to be for me. Go ahead and beg me for it.”

You want to grit your teeth. You want to squirm, tell him to fuck off. But, really, you want to do anything he asks you to do, if only to get him to fuck you like you know he can. You want to give into him, because even that itself feels better than you’d like to admit.

“Bucky, please, please. I… I want it so bad, _need you so bad._ Haven’t had it in so long, and… And you give it to me so good, I just… _please._ ” You drag out your last word, and it seems to do the trick for him.

He starts fucking into you at a steady pace now. “Christ, honey.” Your jaw is slack, head thrown back at the suddenness of it all. “Missed this pussy. Such a good girl for me, begging for my cock inside her.” He’s panting into your open mouth, and it only spurs you on further, trying to match his pacing. Every time you lift your hips to meet his, he only gets faster. You think you could scream, it’s so good.

And then Bucky’s leaning his head down and sucking a nipple into his mouth at the same time that two of his fingers push circles into your click, and you _scream_. It’s so _much_ , so good. He knows your body inside and out, knows exactly how to give you the orgasm you need.

You feel it boiling, and you moan out, “I’m gonna— please, can I—”

“Such a… fuck, _such_ a good girl. My pretty girl, asking for permission.” Bucky gets a wicked smile on his face. “Can you even come if I don’t tell you to?” _Even when he’s fucking you like this, he manages to be smug as hell._

You whimper, about to beg him not to leave you hanging, but he relents. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I want you to come. Wanna feel you tighten around me, baby, c’mon.”

The feeling bubbles in your stomach, spurts over, and he’s coaxing you through it, lips peppering all across your chest, fingers still circling your clit. You haven’t had this in so long, it feels like the first time he’d made you come, and, God, the thought makes you tremble around him. As you start to come down, you see his tell-tale signs that he’s close. Irregular thrusts, kisses on your chest, in the crook of your neck, in the way his moans get a little bit needier.

You grab his face, kissing him hard. You love when he gets like this; right before he lets go, he gives you just a bit of control, and it means even more after your confession. You pull back, breathless, and hold eye contact with him. “Please, Buck. Come inside me.”

You keep your stare steady, keeping both hands on his face, and you watch his eyes close, face scrunching as he spills inside you. You gasp, legs shaking a little at the feeling of him coating your walls and the visual in front of you.

Bucky removes himself from you, and you hear running water before he comes back. He runs the warm cloth over your entrance, kisses you slow to distract you from any discomfort.

Neither of you speak again until Bucky’s pulling you into him, the two of you facing each other. “This okay?” He whispers.

You nod, and lean forward to peck his lips again. “More than okay, Buck.” You smile, then clear your throat. “You interrupted me, you know. Earlier. I didn’t finish.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, tries to pull you closer (and fails, because you’re already flush against each other). “Yeah, you were going on forever. You had me when you said you were gonna _kiss_ me.” He presses his mouth into your neck sweetly, lazily. No heat behind it. _Just because._ “I guess you really know how to spoil a guy.” You smack at his chest, and he pulls back a little to laugh.

You chew on your lip for a second, and then decide to ask what’s sitting at the back of your mind. “Can I… Is it okay if stay the night?”

You’ve never seen him smile so wide. “Sweetheart, if you weren’t staying the night so I could be the grossest significant other in the world and hold you until you fall asleep, this relationship would’ve been over before it even started.”

You’re not sure if it’s possible, but it feels like your whole body is grinning. You don’t flinch at the word as you’d expected to. In fact, it blooms something in your chest, travels to the pads of your fingers and the tips of your toes, and finds its home in you.

Yeah. You enjoy the word relationship pertaining to Bucky Barnes more than you thought you would.


End file.
